


Dusk, Turned Dawn

by DistantStorm



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Ascendancy Trilogy - Timothy Zahn, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Depression, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Mental Health Issues, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: Thrawn is found and brought back to a military hospital on Naporar to heal. The road to recovery is... harrowing.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo & Eli Vanto
Comments: 47
Kudos: 62





	1. Sunset

Admiral Ar’alani of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Fleet was rarely at a loss for words. Her position demanded that she always have at least a tentative course of action and at least three times as many alternatives on deck, but there was still the occasional situation that stumped her. The human spoke in very broken Sy Bisti, his hands held up in a universal gesture of surrender. He looked frightened, but relieved. She quickly understood why.

On the single cot, his long greasy hair spilling over his shoulder, exacerbating the dim glow of his eerily vacant eyes, was Thrawn.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

“There is plenty wrong with him,” The medcenter’s chief physician said. She was a very tall, very slender woman with delicate features, but a sternness in her eyes that stressed how seriously she took her profession. “Deficiencies, imbalances, improperly healed injuries…” She trailed off, sparing Ar’alani more information she had already heard about.

“Brain damage?”

“Thankfully none,” The doctor confirmed. “I realize it seemed that way, given his condition upon discovery, but our tests came back normal. Brain activity was good, neural pathways are intact. Whatever is going on with him,” She fixed the admiral with a piercing gaze, “We can fix the physical aspects. But the mental-”

“His experiences have changed him,” Ar’alani allowed. “From what his travelling companion has been able to tell us, it was a slow descent into this condition. He does not believe there is any catalyst or outside force that pushed him into this state that can be explained by normal forces.”

“And it can be explained by paracausal means?” The chief physician deadpanned.

The admiral sighed. “What I am about to impart upon you is of the strictest confidentiality, Physician Plikh’ihl’inaro,” She fixed the other woman with her most serious of expressions. “The human who accompanied Mitth’raw’nuruodo is what his people call Jedi,” She began. “They are akin to ozyly-esehemembo,” She continued.

This was, after all, a naval facility, so Ar’alani was not surprised when the revelation did not phase the doctor, but the woman merely returned her hands to her white-coat’s pockets. “Admiral, did the Jeh-dai say anything about a potential trigger?”

“He suspects Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s former Empire may have compromised him.” Yes, what the human had been able to communicate to her was harrowing at the very least. What Thrawn’s former master had done to him… She shook her head microscopically, willing that thought away. If she ever had cause to enter Lesser Space again, she would gladly wrap her hands around his neck and watch the light fade from his eyes. Him and his cyborg pet, too.

“Perhaps,” Physician Plikh’ihl’inaro exhaled. “Or perhaps the strain upon his psyche has caused him to withdraw. I have seen his file. I am aware of what stressors our people have thrust upon him. I imagine the circumstances of his exile-” At that she gave Ar’alani a pointed look that suggested she was not stupid and didn’t believe that for an instant, “Were only the very beginning of the strain upon him.”

They could talk in circles for days, Ar’alani suspected. She did not have that kind of time. “What does this mean for his recovery?”

The physician’s gaze softened. “It means that while we can provide the tools and resources, ultimately, Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s recovery is up to him.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Thrawn would not look at her. Would not look at anyone. The machines in his room that monitored vital signs pinged softly with ambient noises that indicated positive metrics. It was the only sound to be heard.

He moved occasionally, but did not speak. His despondent gaze seemed to travel through her when she forced herself into his personal space. She had tried everything. Treating him normally, as if nothing had changed. Treating him gently, like she had in those rare moments he sought her out as both his commander and his friend, looking for guidance. When that had failed, she’d attempted screaming at him. 

It was as if he had withdrawn so far into himself he no longer ceased to be.

That thought was terrifying. She had long since learned to get on without him. But there were great threats out there - to their people, to the galaxy, really - and it was not right that he should be anywhere but standing beside her against them. It was where he belonged. It was his destiny.

Not knowing what else to do, and knowing she couldn’t prevent the eventuality of it even if she tried, she called upon those rare few she knew could be trusted.

Thalias had not known what to do. She had sat with Thrawn for hours. It had been an admirable attempt, her soothing words, her gentle tone. She’d treated him like a skittish Navigator. He would not indulge her. Eventually, he had rolled over to face the wall, curled in on himself, and gone to sleep. Ar'alani had to console the younger woman, who reluctantly admitted that seeing Thrawn like that had been one of the most difficult things she had ever had to face.

Thalias’ former ward, Che’ri, renamed Micher - short for Kimi’che’ri, had also come as soon as she’d been informed by her former momish. Now well into adulthood, the woman had fared well, but had not been able to stand it when the man who had taught her to fly - who had helped her to face her fears and embrace her casual art hobby - had flinched away from her hand when she’d reached for his. 

She’d attempted calling upon his former enemy turned travelling partner. The Jedi had sat quietly - unnervingly so - but after about an hour he had said there was nothing he could do, and had requested to return to his temporary lodgings aboard Ar’alani’s flagship.

In the end, she called in what she figured would be the end of it. General Ba’kif - older now, his age showing - had come in late on the final morning Ar’alani had been able to spare away from her fleet. He had summarily dismissed her, his hand soothing on her shoulder as he steered her toward the medcenter’s exit, taking care to walk her all the way outside, to guide her into a hover car most likely headed to somewhere comfortable for her to both eat and sleep. “Let me sit with him a while,” He’d said.

He had not made any more headway than the others, and when she had returned that evening before the end of visiting hours, she’d heard more than she wanted to. She shouldn’t have been surprised. They had all placed their faith in him. He was their hope, a shield against the darkness that surrounded them. A desperately needed commander with a brilliant mind. One that the Ascendancy had so grossly undervalued. 

She sat with him until the medics politely asked her to leave. She didn’t have the heart to find out if he would also flinch away from her, as he had to all the others. Ignoring the way her eyes burned, Ar’alani left him in silence.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli’van’to looked tired. Then again, to Admiral Ar’alani, the human always looked exhausted, with his dull, lightless dark eyes, his infrared signature throwing additional color across his strangely brown complexion near-constantly.

She had explained the situation to him carefully - worried about his highly polarized emotions - and waited patiently for the cacophony of questions he would no doubt produce. And yet… none came. It had been an uncomfortable decision to inform her lone human commander about this situation. She was cognizant of their mentor-protege relationship, but also their years together in close quarters. Perhaps he would have something useful for them.

Ultimately, it had been how keenly Thrawn had trusted him that had made the decision for her, no matter how little she liked it. “If you choose to visit him, you should be made aware,” She said carefully. “Others close to him have not been able to reach him.”

“I understand,” He’d said, and his dark eyes, while still dull, had shifted to their peculiar glint of resolve. 

“You cannot fix him,” She warned him, watching his face heat in the visible spectrum through the projection. She knew that look, the one that said he was tearing apart a problem. One that said he had a theory he wished to test. “And you have other matters you must attend to.”

“I understand, admiral.” His face went instantly calm and placid. He was learning, even if he’d never be able to escape the biological failings of his species to evade such overt giveaways of emotional state.

“So long as you do,” She said, and turned the conversation elsewhere. “I assume you have insights for me regarding the Vagaari operation.”

He stiffened and followed her lead, instinctively reaching for his questis. “Yes, of course.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Thrawn remained still and unmoving when the technicians came in to manually confirm his vital signs, to adjust the nutrient and intravenous lines, to refresh both his body and the bedding. He did not pick a specific point on the wall so much as his eyes merely looked that direction. He was limp, malleable. Thoughts, emotions, everything was so far away from him.

It was a long while before he heard the sounds of tapping, before he recognized the sounds of work - even longer still before he realized them for what they were. It was someone else, someone who had not been here before. He curled in on himself, feeling the muted burn of the intravenous line in the crook of his elbow, putting his back to the newcomer, whomever they were.

Whatever they wanted, Thrawn would not be able to give it to them. He had nothing left. He had tried. He had failed. And he had lost _everything._


	2. Afterglow

“Hi, Thrawn,” Eli kept his voice low and even. When the answer didn’t come, he didn’t let himself get discouraged. “I’m going to sit for a bit,” He said, and lowered himself into the reclining chair beside the bed. “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to.”

The last time - the first time - he had only managed to stay an hour before he’d felt uncomfortably aware of himself and had talked himself into leaving. He’d then felt so guilty about it that he’d laid awake the rest of the night. He had been difficult to deal with the following morning. He imagined he owed some of his team an apology.

This time, he had come prepared. He had work to do, since there was always more that could be done, and he had never been one to idly sit by with free time on his hands. If Thrawn wasn’t going to acknowledge him, that was fine. He didn’t need to. Frankly, Eli wondered if anyone had told him that he didn’t _need_ to do anything.

The Chiss were obsessed with drive and purpose. Eli had never met another who embodied this ideal as much as Thrawn had. But for as much as the Chiss thought they were invincible, unstoppable beings, they had weaknesses, too. And no being, no matter how determined, could be subjected to so many stressors for as long as Thrawn had been without coming out at least a little damaged.

Eli had heard about the fleet. Had heard about the purrgil that had ripped apart star destroyers, killing the majority of the crew aboard. Had heard about the Chimaera’s fate, how it had been thrust through hyperspace with the Jedi pinning Thrawn to the bridge, forcing him to watch as his meticulous plans were reduced to nothing around him. 

He couldn’t imagine it. He didn’t think that was the kind of thing a normal being could live through. He saw the way the Jedi - the reason it had happened, whether justified or not - acted with quiet, composed grief in the interrogation sessions that Ar’alani had sent him to review. He had heard how the young man had only acted to free his people from what was essentially slavery - a sentiment the Chiss could respect. Eli had no doubt that both Thrawn and Ezra Bridger had been willing to do what needed to be done to ultimately protect their people, but that they had both been woefully unprepared to live with the consequences of those actions. 

The few hours he had allotted himself passed reasonably quickly. Before he knew it, it was nearly midnight, and he had a long walk in front of him that he wasn’t really looking forward to. It took him a moment to summon the energy, but he managed to pull himself out of the admittedly comfortable chair beside Thrawn’s bed and head for the door. The Chiss had the white linen blankets pulled up over his face, but Eli suspected he was awake.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” He said, and let the door close quietly behind him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The third visit, Eli had fallen asleep in his chair beside the bed and woke to a nurse quietly nudging him to step out while they checked up on their patient. When he returned, those barely glowing eyes had slid over him, then Thrawn had rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head once again.

It had taken a few moments, but Eli watched the monitor's numbers drop as the Chiss dropped off into sleep. Good, he thought, and pulled up some reading he'd meant to do. When he left this time, he slipped out as quietly as he could. It was easier to move around in the late night hours.

On the fourth, fifth, and sixth visits, Thrawn stared at him for intervals of time that made no sense whatsoever. It was only strange to Eli that there was no burning scrutiny, no half formed hypothesis he was just carefully considering before he shared it.

On the ninth visit in twelve days, Eli didn't bring work this time. He'd had a long day. "Unless you have any qualms about it," He said quietly, I'm gonna nap." The words likely slurred together but he couldn't quite help it. It really had been a long day, and even just getting here had been a fight. He hadn't received an answer, and wasn't sure it would have mattered if he did.

When he woke, Thrawn was watching him, his fingers laced over his chest, head propped up against the backrest.

"You should be aboard the _Steadfast_."

The words were hoarse and spoken as if dragged through shards of broken glass. Thrawn had spoken in Basic, so after Eli shrugged, he replied in kind. "I'm stationed planetside right now," He said, and Thrawn closed his eyes.

He didn't speak again until the seventeenth visit. 

"Why?"

Eli looked over his questis and the shipping logs he'd been asked to check for inconsistencies. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that," He answered slowly.

"Why are you here?" Thrawn's eyes still lacked their usual luster, but they were distrustful. Accusatory.

The answer was immediate. "I'm visiting you," He said, and didn't explain further. After another moment, he said, "Would you like me to leave?"

Thrawn didn't answer that. He didn't roll over, either, didn't put his back to Eli, so Eli took a gamble and stayed.

On the next visit, Thrawn appeared to be waiting for him. The nurses had also been waiting for him. Waiting, it seemed, to tell him that it had been a bad day, that Thrawn had needed to be sedated at one point because of his reaction - screaming and all - to his visitor. A member of his family, they'd said. 

Any reaction was good, they'd assured him, but Eli had shrugged off the rest of it and gone in to see him anyway. 

Perhaps Thrawn hadn't been waiting for him as much as he'd been waiting for a fight, his limp hair trailing down the sides of his gaunt face like curtains. Eli didn't treat him like the danger he easily could be. Instead he sat in his usual chair beside the bed and reached for his questis without commentary.

"They told you," Thrawn accused.

"They did," Eli agreed. He didn't look up. He'd been told a lot of things, really. By Ar'alani and Thalias, especially. Micher was on assignment, but as soon as that was over, he had no doubt she'd be messaging him non-stop for updates.

He'd kept them brief. He hadn't even told them Thrawn had spoken aloud until a doctor had told Ar'alani. He'd faced her wrath for that, but it was worth it.

He had his own feelings on Thrawn's recovery. It was personal. It was not the CEDF's, no matter how well meaning his CO might be. So many people needed Thrawn. And yet, no one ever stopped to consider what it was that Thrawn needed. 

Of that, he had once been guilty. His initial opinion of Thrawn had been tinted negatively. It had been respectful enough, Eli had always recognized the Chiss' genius. But he'd noticed this from the Ascendancy since his arrival. I'm hindsight, he'd noticed it in Thrawn in those earlier days, too, but had only recently understood why.

The Chiss had a tendency to look at those around them like tools. Articles of protection or destruction or discovery. Their desperation showed in their treatment of those around them. Ar'alani did not trend this way often, but Eli also knew she'd been monitoring signs of civil and political unrest for years now. Meanwhile, their enemies circled around them like lazy predators, waiting for them to be tired before striking the killing blow.

Thrawn was not some savior. He was brilliant, an asset to any operation he was a part of. But the Chiss had unrealistic expectations, Eli thought.

Thrawn had again given Eli his back, but Eli eventually rose. The lights were kept dim, and Eli shut them off entirely before making his way past Thrawn's bed and stopping before the window.

Thrawn immediately pulled the blankets over his head as if the outside light might burn him, but Eli opened the window treatments anyway.

"It's a good view," Eli said softly, and turned back to his chair. It took some time, but Thrawn eventually looked out. The sun had since set, the sky aglow with shades of purple blue light, and the stars beginning to twinkle overhead. The Chiss had little light pollution, and the view on most planets of what small portion of space they could see was admittedly breathtaking.

"You have not asked," Thrawn said after a long silence. His eyes were on the stars, now visible.

Eli didn't answer right away. There were any number of things he could ask, sure, but he'd seen what pushing did. Thrawn was not going to talk because someone wanted him to - and if he did, Eli didn't think that was right. 

"I came here," He began, voice gone low and serious, "To sit with my friend."

Thrawn curled in on himself, frowning. He said nothing else for the rest of the night, though he did not sleep. Eli remained awake as well, alternating between examining the still unfamiliar constellations visible from Naporar's surface, and the analysis Ar'alani would want from him by the end of the next day.

When he left, Thrawn watched him go.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Thrawn could not make sense of it. Eli Vanto's visits, while a marker of time's passage, served no purpose. He did not ask questions about what Thrawn had seen or done or would do. He did not attempt to coerce him into physical therapy exercises or talking to a counselor. He didn't even interact with Thrawn, most of the time.

Vanto merely occupied space in his room, an unobtrusive presence.

Thrawn's own awareness, his sense of self was fleeting. He was cracked, impossibly broken, enough that he could see it, like a physical manifestation in his mind. The amount of energy it took just to exist was… exhausting. 

_"I came here to sit with my friend,"_ Vanto had said.

Had Thrawn ever truly had a friend before? 

A real friend. Someone who did not have an ulterior motive, who had no need for him to do something for them in exchange for their cooperation. Had he ever?

No, he thought. 

He had commanded loyalty. Allegiances. He had never known something so pure and unattached as true friendship.


	3. Midnight

Eli slipped into the room while Thrawn was sleeping. When the Chiss woke, breathing heavy, hair slicked against his forehead with sweat, Eli set down his questis and rose tentatively from his usual seat.

He could feel the eyes of the nurses on his back when they came to investigate his elevated heart rate, but he ignored them.

"Hey," He said instead, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed.

Those red eyes found him, and if eyes could latch onto something, could reach out and grab him, Thrawn's did in that moment. He didn't touch the Chiss. Thrawn had never seemed terribly physical, and Eli didn't want to overstep, especially when Thrawn hadn't been making it clear if he did or did not want something.

"You're awake," He said, instead of the eight different verbalizations of 'It was just a nightmare, it's alright,' that he might have said if it were anyone else. "Take a couple deep breaths so these nurses don't need to kick me out," He smiled, adding without judgement, "Unless you wanna be alone-"

Thrawn's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to bruise. He had reached out so quickly that Eli had barely seen him move. It was instantly painful, but Eli carefully pried those long blue fingers from his forearm and instead linked their fingers.

"Okay," Eli said. The nurses came in anyway, checking Thrawn's heart and lungs again, before offering their patient something to calm him enough to go back to sleep. Thrawn shook his head, albeit microscopically, but the look on the nurses' faces spoke of pride. Progress.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The projected image over the tray table Eli had commandeered from Thrawn was ugly. The numbers didn't add up, and Eli knew why. It was one thing to uncover minutiae from obscure tables, but another for such glaring, overt discrepancies. The things it suggested weren't good for anyone, even if it were simply poor record keeping.

Thrawn had been watching him intensely. That was a new development. He was still in and out, nearly impossible to converse with, but the nurses encouraged him to come and stay as long as he wanted. Most of all, they said he was most responsive when Eli came to sit with him.

"You are troubled," Thrawn spoke into his thoughts, voice so silky smooth, the baseline for how he'd been for so much of their time together that Eli nearly threw his questis in surprise. 

"The data doesn't add up," Eli said carefully, not wanting to offer too much information. 

Thrawn hummed as though he realized this. Eli continued working in silence. "You have not asked me to assist you."

"Do you want to help?" He drawled back.

"Irrelevant," Thrawn replied.

Eli shut off the projection. "Very relevant," He countered, holding his former mentor's gaze until he looked away.

"What do you want from me?" Thrawn asked him.

"I don't want anything from you," Eli answered firmly. "I don't need your help," He continued, as gently as he could. "I'll figure it out."

Thrawn hummed again. He moved closer to the edge of the bed, the side closest to Eli, and curled up. "I am tired," He admitted.

"I'll be here," Eli said, which wasn't really an answer so much as an acknowledgement, and rested his hand over Thrawn's under the blankets, squeezing once before he went back to his work. 

Thrawn watched him silently for a long while.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

"I hear Ar'alani came to visit you," Eli said, nearly a week later. Thrawn had his arms looped around one leg, his other stretched out awkwardly in front of him. He didn't hold the position long before his arms and legs disagreed with doing more than laying down. 

It was still so strange seeing Thrawn so run down. He had always been so strong and lithe and agile. Eli had known very early on in their time together that there were few beings who could hold a candle to the man. But he was so much more than that, too.

"She did." He looked out the window. More often than not, he seemed to find solace staring out at the stars and distant aurora from the planet's northern pole. 

Eli grunted in acknowledgement and sat down. He was beat, and he could feel the heat in his cheeks, the back of his neck. Sitting was a boone, and Thrawn liked the air in his room nearly glacial in temperature - it was easier to hide beneath a blanket that way, Eli supposed - and Eli had since adjusted to that way of life. 

"Are you alright?"

Thrawn's shoulders twitched. On a lesser being, it would have been a shrug.

Eli pushed past the yawn that cracked his jaw, and Thrawn's gleaming eyes took him in. "I think you should sleep," He said instead of anything else.

"Will you?"

"Not yet."

Eli nodded, leaning back in the recliner and laying his hand within Thrawn's reach. He jerked between wakefulness and sleep and thought he had felt the careful swipe of fingers against his. He relaxed into it. 

Later, he woke to Thrawn attempting to finger comb his hair, his movements furious and frustrated.

The human stumbled out of the chair, not fully awake. He caught himself and corrected his balance easily enough. "Lemme get a brush or something," He drawled, and it was five minutes later that he made it back to the room. Thrawn had stopped when he said he would retrieve a brush, but it wasn't very long after Eli had handed him the comb that his movements slowed, then ceased altogether. 

Eli waited a moment before dipping so that his eyes met Thrawn's. "May I?" He asked, fingers tracing over the comb.

Thrawn raised his head, then moved forward a little. An affirmative action. Eli stood beside him, carefully sectioning out the thick, long hair the Chiss had grown since his disappearance over Lothal years earlier. It was longer than it had been when they'd met, and he told Thrawn so.

The Chiss hummed in a combination of acknowledgement and possibly contentment, swaying with the motion. Eli lingered until it was clear the Chiss couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, leaning forward as sleep took him, then jerking as his body attempted to correct his failing balance, to keep him awake. Very carefully, Eli guided the other man to the mattress. He was still larger than Eli, even as slight as he was now - Eli suspected he might actually have more muscle tone, and that was rather absurd. Thrawn had been sick for a while, though. Eli pulled the blankets over him, collected his questis, and set off for his currently assigned home.

Thrawn would recover, of that Eli was sure. He just needed the time and space to do so.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli's hands were warm on his face, his fingertips sweeping gently across Thrawn's temples, the arches of his forehead. In Thrawn's lap were the clippers Eli had brought several days ago and tucked into his refresher. How he had known Thrawn would want to use them was beyond him. Thrawn hadn't even realized that he had wanted to cut his hair until two days earlier, when he'd realized he used his hair as a tool to hide (like he had with his blankets, before that) and had been instantly overwhelmed by feelings of shame.

He did not like this person he had become. He hated his lack of control over his thoughts and actions and feelings. He did not want to be like this. 

He had no words to say so, nor could he quite bring himself to describe any of it. But this, his hair, it was something he could control. He could dictate its length and style. Thus, this.

While he had been thinking, Eli had swept his hair into two sections each clipped at the shoulder, ready for that initial cut.

"You should do it," Eli said, meeting his gaze through the fresher mirror as he handed Thrawn the shears.

Thrawn nodded minutely. He ignored the pull of the line in his arm, though the tubing had been disconnected to allow him to move to the fresher under Eli's supervision, a journey that had exhausted him, even as he leaned against his younger, smaller protege. Eli's eyes held encouragement as he made the first cut, then the second. Long hair fell into his lap.

The human ran his hands through Thrawn's now shorter hair, blunt nails soothing against his scalp. "How short do you want it? Like you used to?" His lips quirked a little wryly. "I'm not much for styling," He gestured to his own hair, always lightly mussed, "But I should be able to manage it."

"I," He considered his reflection. "Shorter," He said, swallowing. Each word took monumental effort. "I used to keep it shorter."

"I can do that," Eli said, and there was something there Thrawn couldn't help but feel, like a fluttering beneath his skin. It rubbed against the wariness inside him, warming him like a small, kindled flame. "Clippers, if you wouldn't mind?"

Thrawn handed the handheld device to him, and Eli turned it on, adjusting it as it buzzed. It was to get him used to the sound, he realized. Considerate. 

He had begun to notice that there was a lot of consideration in Vanto's actions. He telegraphed his motions, and spoke even when words failed Thrawn, not assuming so much as offering options or choices. Even in this. He did not treat Thrawn like an invalid, even if Thrawn knew he was exactly that. He treated Thrawn with respect, like he wasn’t so obviously broken.

Most of all, Vanto was patient with him. He was so much different than the young man Thrawn remembered nurturing, the hot-tempered Wild Space outsider who complimented his style, who could keep up in his own fashion, who, in the end, had come closer to understanding than anyone-

"Thrawn?" The clippers turned off, and Thrawn blinked. Vanto hadn't started yet, but the clippers had been discarded beside the sink. "Hey," Vanto said, voice gruff. "C'mere."

There wasn't really anywhere to go, and Thrawn doubted his ability to stand up from the bench placed in the refresher without assistance, but he turned toward Eli Vanto anyway. He found his face pressed against a body-warmed uniform tunic, and surrounded the fresh, spicy scent of his former aide, strong arms wrapped around his back. He hadn't realized he was shaking, that his eyes were leaking hot and angry onto the younger man's front until his breath turned ragged with the effort of it.

Vanto held him. There were no other words for it. Vanto held him tightly, as if by sheer will alone he could hold Thrawn together. He didn't speak, didn't promise that anything would be alright, didn't coddle him like the others had started to do, desperate for any kind of interaction, for even a glint of who he once was. 

At some point, someone had come into the crowded space, but Eli's voice had been kind, but stern as he turned them away. Thrawn had no doubt his heart rate had gone up noticeably, yet another incident that drew the medics' attention from whatever central station they operated from. At this angle, Eli all but towered over Thrawn, almost entirely blocking him from view.

It was another courtesy. His fingers flexed against Vanto's back, seeking purchase, and the man tightened his grip again in a silent answer. Reassurance.

He had never been like this. Had never lost such control of himself, had never spiraled-

But he had been. He'd been careening down this path, out of control for a while now.

When it was over, passing through like a summer storm, Eli made no comment of it. He simply wet a face towel and let him swipe it haphazardly over his face while he set his uniform tunic to rights. He did not ask if Thrawn felt better, or if he wanted to talk about it.

"Ready?" He eventually asked, dark eyes gentle and bright with understanding. If you want, we can wait-"

"I'm ready," Thrawn said hoarsely. "Please."


	4. First Light

"Oh," Micher said, voice higher pitched than usual when she came in. "Aren't you a sight," She commented, a little dry.

The quirk of his lips, the subtle acknowledgement of her words made everything about her brighten. She coughed and looked away, and her eyes were glassy when she looked back at him. Glassy, but dry. She had always been of tougher stuff.

"It is good to see you, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," She said, settling into the chair next to him with her sketchbook and paint pens.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli Vanto was agile enough to miss the intravenous line when he yanked it from his arm and threw it in the direction of the far wall. The human bent at the waist to pick it up, dropped the bloody device into the sanitization tote built into the wall, then stepped around the bed and towards Thrawn.

"What?" He snapped at the younger man, who ignored him and turned away completely, toward the machines his IV had been connected to. Vanto hit several buttons across several devices, and the pumps went silent. Thrawn hadn't realized they had been keeping angrily until they stopped. 

Eli looked down at the small, oozing puddle of medication and nutritional supplement, then back at Thrawn. "You bleeding?" He asked, one eyebrow quirked.

Thrawn cradled the elbow that the line had been tucked into with his other hand, curled in on himself and glowered in the middle distance.

The human sighed, opening a drawer beside the bed and fishing out a gauze pad. "Hold this on it until it stops bleeding," He said.

Well aware of how blood clotting worked, Thrawn yanked the piece of gauze from Eli's fingers with a small growl. Vanto regarded him for a moment, then headed back toward the door.

"Where are you going?" He hissed to Vanto’s back.

Eli ignored him, letting the door close quietly behind him. Thrawn brooded, simultaneously crushed by guilt and blinding anger. He was not helpless.

The smell of something - salty and familiar - drew his attention some time later. He'd been so lost in his tangled thoughts he hadn't realized that Vanto had returned, or that he'd set a small, cup-like bowl on the portable table next to the bed.

When Vanto realized he had Thrawn's attention, he nodded towards it and the hot curls of steam rising into the air. "If you don't want the IV," He said, "You need to eat."

Thrawn took a deep breath, and suddenly his senses caught the warm, familiar smell of bone broth, his mind tripping over how absolutely appealing it was to him. He reached for it greedily, fingers curling around the warm bowl, designed to be sipped from directly rather than ladled with a utensil. He savored the first sip, eyes half mast in a combination of pleasure and comfort. Eli smiled encouragingly and leaned back in his chair.

Once finished, Thrawn reclined against the bed, propped upright in a pseudo-sitting position. The nurses came in not long after, eyeing his bruised arm with a suspicious glance, and Eli with another look that suggested they might have words for him later. Thrawn let them check him with a sort of languid detachment. In the end, they begrudgingly left them alone.

“You overstepped,” Thrawn commented drowsily, not long after. He felt warm and comfortable, too heavy to move.

“A bit,” He hedged, and there was something playful there. “Worth it to see the look on their faces.”

“I suspect the doctors did not want me to eat or drink without their permission,” Thrawn said.

“They wanted to micromanage you doing it, I suspect,” Eli replied. “Didn’t seem helpful, so I might have told them the soup was mine.” He grinned, reaching to the outer console on Thrawn’s bed, dimming the lights.

Thrawn offered a conspiratorial smile back, sated and sleepy, and closed his eyes.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The woman had started to visit him several times a week. She wore a CEDF uniform, like Eli, but also a white coat over it. Half clinician, half military. She, like so many others, attempted different tactics to get him to talk.

It felt like a debrief, but an ineffective one. She would bring up things he tried very hard not to dwell on, rehashing them, then ask about his feelings in relation to them. 

In the general scheme of things, his feelings had not ever mattered. When he had told her as much, she had frowned. 

"Just because we follow orders, doesn't mean we are not sentient or empathetic," She'd said to him. He mulled over the words all day, and repeated them to Eli when he came that night. 

He was moving slower, his steps measured, but his face heated as though he might have been in pain. "Rough training session," He said. 

Satisfied with his response, they went back to discussing Thrawn's session with the navy's appointed counselor. "I do not understand how it is supposed to help. She speaks of progress, and yet-"

"Sometimes we _think_ we've moved on from things, but we haven't," The human offered tentatively.

"Explain." He locked on to Eli's eyes, watched as he considered his words very carefully. He added, "I wish to know what you think."

"Well, given what I know - which isn't everything, but a lot," He took a breath. "Okay. This applies to you, but it's not just you. It's something I see in a lot of Chiss, especially in the CEDF-"

"Speak your mind, Eli. You do not have to..." He trailed off, then used a Basic term, _"Sugar-coat it."_

Eli flushed brilliantly, but he did. His lips were pursed, but his eyes were hard. Whatever Eli said, Thrawn realized it would hurt. "You spent so long trying to build up your plans, and at times, you set aside your beliefs to do it. If you could complete your objective, it would be worth it. I've been thinking about it a lot lately," He admitted quietly. "After I left for the Ascendancy, you were effectively alone."

"There were others.”

"Hammerly and Faro were great officers," Eli agreed. "But they ultimately cared about the Empire and those in it a lot more than they cared about the galaxy, overall."

"Does it upset you?" Thrawn asked him.

Eli shrugged. "It upset me that you were left with those choices.”

“And all the people who died? The innocent-”

“Even if it’s for the greater good - for the entire galaxy, doing something morally abhorrent is still exactly that.” Eli said. “In your case, survival was a win. It’s only natural that you’d tune everything else out until you were safe, it just… compounded.”

Thrawn closed his eyes, mulling over his words. “I would like to be alone,” He said.

Eli nodded. He rose, breath hitching as he reached for his questis in something almost like a sigh. There was no judgement in his tone. “You got it.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli did not visit him the next night, or the one after that.

Thrawn had been waiting. The first night, he suspected it was due to his request for space the previous night. Vanto did not visit every day, only most. Then, he got to thinking. Perhaps it had been his work. There were plenty of opportunities to work long hours, and data analysis had a penchant for making him lose track of time.

Even if that had never been the case yet, in all the weeks Thrawn had been here.

“I see your companion has not come tonight,” The nurse said, on the second night. “Have you heard from him?”

Thrawn considered her for a long moment. He did not remember her name, though he was certain she had introduced herself. “I do not have the means to contact him,” Thrawn said.

“You have a questis in the drawer,” She told him, pulling open the lowest tiered drawer beside the bed. She checked the power button and nothing happened. “Looks like it needs a charge, but-”

Thrawn stared at it, unaware of how it had gotten there.

The nurse smiled observantly. “He brought it for you weeks ago,” She said. “He has so many in-” She trailed off. “Well, he just wanted to make sure you had something to do if you were bored. I think he said there’s art on it?”

He frowned down at the device, but took the offered charging cable. She left him to it.

On the third day, Vanto came in later, face paler than usual. There were shadows under his eyes. Thrawn discarded the device and the piece he had been studying, giving Eli his undivided attention. The projection flickered then stilled, displaying an abstract sculpt that floated innocently beside the Chiss.

Eli waved off his concern, giving him a wan smile as he sat down. “Busy few days,” He offered, nodding towards the questis. “Hopefully my art selection wasn’t too horrible. I tried to load up a little bit of everything. The admiral helped me fill in some of the gaps.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli closed his eyes at the news, waiting for the confirmation. He wasn’t really surprised. Things had been going this way for a while now. In fact, it explained, well, everything he’d been trying to ignore.

“We have to act now, don’t we?” He said.

“Yes,” The Chiss looked apologetic. That was a far cry from the indifference he’d seen from them at the start. He had managed to alter the natural prejudice of most of those he’d encountered over the last few years, to a degree. For better or worse, he thought. “It’s not mission critical yet, but that point is rapidly approaching. We might be able to wait another day, at most.”

“And the outcome?”

“There are always risks,” The lead said, “But I believe the outcome will be positive, Commander.”

He considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Alright,” He said, “How do we begin?”


	5. Daybreak

The lapse was longer, this time.

One day became two, became three, then five. Thrawn grew restless. Restless enough that he’d stopped snapping at the counselor, instead shedding light upon his frustrations, discussing his reasoning - mostly rhetorical - for Vanto’s extended, unannounced absence, but if he spoke aloud he could focus, and if he was speaking she was not trying to coax him into speaking about things he did not wish to think on, regardless of if he should be working through them or not. 

The woman, infuriatingly patient and tranquil, asked if he’d attempted to contact him via his questis. Of course he had.

What about his comm? He definitely didn’t have one, much less the frequency. He made a note to mention it to Che’ri - Micher, he corrected himself - or Thalias, on their next visit. Certainly he had some stipend or accounts that had done nothing but accrue interest since his half-faked exile.

All the woman had done was exacerbate a mounting headache. Her solutions were slower than his mind operated, even impaired as he’d been, lately. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

“Where is he?”

If Ar’alani had been surprised, certainly had not acted like it. She crossed her arms, waiting a moment before she came fully into the room. “Of whom are we speaking?”

“You know of whom we are speaking,” Thrawn growled back. “It has been more than a week. Did his assignment change?”

She cocked her head, considering. “Assignment?”

“I saw his work.”

“Huh.” She entered the room all the way, then closed the door behind her. “He never said anything about you assisting him.”

“He did not want my help unless I wished to assist.”

The admiral pursed her lips. “Yes, he said as much, but he has not mentioned anything about your knowledge of the situation. His briefings of your time together are… incomplete. Do you wish to assist now?”

“I,” Thrawn frowned, weighing the possibilities, trying to balance his desire for knowledge and control with the immediate vacuum of his failings.

It must have been an uncomfortably long period of time that he considered, because Ar’alani eventually sighed. “You cannot assist without medical clearance.” She fixed him a look. “You have yet to answer me as to how you are doing and it has been months.”

“I am fine,” Said Thrawn.

She inclined her head, expression neutral. “I cannot share his status.”

“If I passed an eval?”

“Then I would know you are faking,” Ar’alani said, face darkening. “Do not make this more difficult than it already is for yourself.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The counselor - her name was Khikia - was a distant relative of the chief physician (she had volunteered this information during one of Thrawn’s silences), had continued to bother him. At the beginning of the second week, when Thrawn had made the transition from angry and brooding to this state of near expressionless withdrawal, had finally asked a question worth his contemplation.

“Why do you care?”

Thrawn’s eyes narrowed. “He has been coming to see me for months now,” He retorted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Khikia set down her questis and leaned against the wall. He had never invited her to sit, and she did not presume herself to be on friendly terms with him. “That is what he has done, yes,” She mused. “That says nothing as to why you are entitled to know more, or why that knowledge is relevant to you.”

Thrawn looked down at his hands, clenching them before raising his gaze to her once more. “Vanto is…” He considered, eyes going out of focus as he chose the words. “I do not feel as though I have to be anything with him."

Khikia tilted her head. "I am happy you have someone whom you feel comfortable with," She said. "But what of him?"

"We are friends," Thrawn explained tersely..

"But do you care that he is not here to sit with you because that is what he always does, or because you miss his presence? It is easy to want control-"

"I simply wish to know that he is alright. I am not so self absorbed that I believe his universe revolves around myself." Thrawn couldn't help it, his lips twisted into an almost-snarl.

The counselor evaluated him. "You have been more aware, intrapersonally speaking, as of late," She agreed, her tranquil gaze sliding over him, then looking out the window. The curtains and blinds were open almost all the time now. Having a sense of time helped, Thrawn had found. It was an anchor. "My suggestion," She said, and Thrawn all but rolled his eyes at her, "Is to search your interactions with him, to see if there are any inconsistencies. I am told you are a tactical genius the likes of which I could not imagine. Apply your methods, and tell me what you discover in our next session."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

In the end, it was something mundane that caught his attention, hours after he'd dismissed the counselor altogether.

Micher's stomach growled. She flushed and set aside her sketchbook, capping her pens. "I'll come back after dinner," She said. 

"There must be a commissary nearby," Thrawn told her. Conveniently enough, the subject had come up as a technician brought him a sub-par latemeal of his own. Thrawn had quickly renounced his belief that hospital food was delicious after he’d started eating regularly once more. It was nutritional, practically military standard, and that was enough to keep extraneous intravenous lines out of his arms (for the most part). 

"Apologies," The technician said. "The commissary has been closed for renovations for several months now." They were young, their dark hair swept back in a bun and net, their skin the deep blue associated with the bloodline of house Chaf. "We are only able to provide food and drink to patients."

He frowned at that. “Months?”

“Yes,” The nutritional tech said apologetically. “We realize it’s terribly inconvenient-”

Thrawn hadn’t heard the rest of her statement, and Micher, sensing his distraction, took his leave, leaving him alone to arrange his thoughts. 

Eli Vanto had brought him broth several times. The same broth that sat innocently on the tray in front of him, in the same deep bowl.

Counselor Khikia believed there were inconsistencies that Thrawn could pick out. She would not have said as much without reason, considering his condition. He was her patient, he remained in the hospital because he had been adverse to therapy - both mental and physical - and that it was depression, stress disorder, a myriad of things he'd been diagnosed with. 

This was not a test, but it was a puzzle. She believed that he had all the pieces.

Thrawn steepled his fingers in front of his chin, index fingers stopping just short of touching his nose. He let his eyes close, meal forgotten. He needed to think, to start at the beginning.

It was, he realized, mind spinning up like a reliable spacecraft left unattended for a long while, quite obvious. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Eli looked at the figure in his doorway for a long moment, eyes needing a moment to focus. He’d been mostly asleep. The only light in the room was what spilled in from the hallway and the glow of machines with their pale blue monitors.

“Eli,” Thrawn said, allowing himself to enter. He took one step, then another, until he stood beside the bed, winded but steady on his feet. Eli saw when his expression changed, how Thrawn had to force himself to drag his gaze up the length of the bed - acknowledging the clear lack of a leg on the left side - to meet Eli’s face.

“I’ve missed some visits,” He half said, half slurred in Basic, eyes fluttering closed seemingly against his will. “Sorry. I meant to send you a message, but,” He cracked one eye open. “All the days keep runnin’ together.”

“You do not owe me an apology, Eli Vanto.” Thrawn’s fingers curled over the bed rail. “I should have-”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” Eli interrupted. His brown eyes were hazy, and Thrawn recognized why: A narcotic was among the bags medication strung up on the IV pole behind the bed. “This happened months before they found you.” He shrugged a little, shaking himself to stay awake. “Just havin’ some issues with the port for the bioleg. Chiss tech is not completely compatible with human biology so we’ve had to make some changes. ’S not exactly the most comfortable process.” He exhaled slowly, pushing himself up to sitting. “How’d you figure it out?”

“They only feed patients.” He blinked down at Eli, “And the counselor challenged me to consider inconsistencies.”

“Khikia’s a bitch, ain’t she?” Thrawn grunted at Eli’s bluntness, but he couldn’t disagree with him. “She pulled my head out of my ass after my mission went belly-up, whether I wanted it or not. She’s good at what she does, and she won’t apologize for it.”

“You’ve had to talk to her too?”

“I lost my first command to the Vagaari: my ship was destroyed, seven of eight escape pods with it. Only three people came out without major injuries. I wasn’t one of them. I honestly don’t know how someone lives through that sort of thing without failing a psych eval or three,” Eli said grimly. “I still talk to her sometimes, even though they don’t mandate it anymore. I still have days I can’t get my head on straight.”

“I wish I had been there,” Thrawn said without thinking. He found that he meant it.

“I wish I’d been there for you, too.” He gestured toward the chair in the corner. “Wanna sit awhile?”


End file.
